


(red flags look like normal flags when you're wearing) rose-tinted glasses

by LadybugsFanfics



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Animal Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Physical Abuse, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:47:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23432635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadybugsFanfics/pseuds/LadybugsFanfics
Summary: requested by anonymous on tumblr:Reader is small and have an Danish Dog, thats actually an giant drool dog. While she's taking the dog to the park he start running with Bob while on the tab and he keeps pulling her until Tom saves her. Then Bobby start growling at her, and they think that is bcs he's jealous...
Relationships: Reader/Unnamed Character, Tom Hiddleston & Reader
Kudos: 8





	(red flags look like normal flags when you're wearing) rose-tinted glasses

**Author's Note:**

> this was really hard to write and i want it to be clear that ive never been in an abusive relationship so ive done my best to portray it and how hard it is to break out of it, but i dont have firsthand information. please let me know if something seems unrealistic or weird. 
> 
> i want you all to know that there are explicit abuse, but that it's not very violent but it still has an emotional impact. please don't read if you know it won't be good for you, and there is a happy ending even tho ive made the relationship between reader and tom platonic (that's more for realistic purposes).

The tall man startles as the bark sounds through the park. You widen your eyes at the sight of the little brown the male walks with. 

_No, no, no_ , you think. 

Your dog, or actually your boyfriend’s dog, is rather big. The giant of a dog also barks whenever he sees brown dogs (as if the dog can be racist, honestly you have no idea how it works, but there are many things that can be the reason), and the dog that man walks with― 

You don’t want to think about it. 

Nor do you get the chance as your tight grip on the leash seems to be your downfall. The dog has almost leapt into the air as the barks rip through the quiet silence of the park. 

“Yoshi! Stop!” you yell, but to no avail. He keeps running, stronger than you even as you put your heels down on the ground and try to brake. 

The tall male has turned around. You send him a pleading look as your dog, almost literally, attacks his little one. In the sudden change of speed, where Yoshi goes from running and barking to hopping around and barking, you trip over your own feet and find yourself on your way to face planting with the ground below. 

A pair of strong arms around your hips keep you from falling and you’re put back up on your feet with your back pressed to a muscular chest. As you regain your balance, the arms fall away. They don’t go far, only to grip the leash of your dog in an attempt to help your arm not dislocate. 

“Thank you,” you say as you crouch down to keep Yoshi under control. He’s stopped barking, and with your soft strokes along his neck, he stops hopping, too. 

“You’re welcome,” replies your saviour. 

Standing up, you find a handsome male looking at you. Curly ginger hair, the most reassuring smile you have ever seen, and gentle blue-green eyes that makes you feel at ease. The way his eyes trace over you make you drag down the sleeve of your jacket slightly, and then you return his smile to the best of your abilities. 

“He can be a little unruly at times, I’m so sorry.” You press your lips together in a tight lipped smile, shaking your head to let your hair come back to the front and cover your neck where your scarf fails. “I think something might’ve happened when he was a puppy because he only reacts to brown dogs.”

The stranger’s smile crinkles his eyes and he lets out a slight chuckle. Your heart beats faster at the sound. You will it to shut up. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I’m Tom, by the way.”

“I’m Y/N.” You swallow the lump in your throat. Throat dry and heart steadily beating faster, the pounding like a drum inside your head. “I’m sorry, again. For the whole… thing. But I should get going now.” 

With a little tug of Yoshi’s leash you turn to continue down the path you were headed. A wait from Tom has you turn back around. He steps closer to you, tugging with him his own dog that so far seems rather docile and that you find super cute. 

“Could I possibly get your number?” he asks. 

If your heart hadn’t already lodged itself in your throat from talking to him, it definitely shot there now. With a steady breath (as steady as you can) you nod. “Yeah, sure.” And you take the phone Tom hands you. 

It takes no time typing in your number, but you nearly drop the phone when Tom’s dog starts barking at you. Big dog eyes that look at you, nose high in the air and the barking growing steadily louder as he continues.

Tom frowns at his dog as he accepts his phone. He shakes his head and tugs at the leash, telling ‘Bobby’ to quiet and that there’s nothing to bark about. “I’m sorry,” he says. “He’s probably a little jealous.”

You try for a smile and a soft laugh but it comes out more strained. “Yes, jealous. Makes sense, I guess.” With a deep sigh, you turn to look at Tom again. “Again, so sorry. I guess I’ll hear from you. Bye.”

And now you leave with Yoshi in tow before Tom can stop you. 

You wonder what he’ll do if he finds out you won’t answer his messages. Wonder if he’ll do the same as your boyfriend does whenever you forget to answer or don’t do something as he wants. 

After all, fear was the only reason you did give Tom your phone number. That reassuring smile fools no one, and those gentle eyes are the same gentle ones _he_ uses in front of others. 

_Sorry, Tom, but I won’t exchange him for someone worse_ . _Even if I might deserve it_. 

* * *

The door is unlocked when you get home. The shoe rack kicked over and the few sets of jackets that hung in the closet have found their way to the floor. Your heart stops beating as fear settles in your gut. 

This is never good, but neither is cleaning it up before he allows you to, so you kick off your own shoes and let your jacket fall to the floor instead of hanging it up. You unclasp Yoshi’s leash and let him pad into the living room and greet his owner. 

Clenching your eyes shut, you regret letting the dog go in before you. The whimper has tears forming in your eyes. You will them back. You can’t cry. Crying just leads to a worse… you don’t know exactly what to call it. 

“Babe?” you call as you take the steps in after the dog. 

Your boyfriend’s rage filled face meets you. He’s locked the dog in its too small cage, and he hits Yoshi on the snout rather hard as the dog lets out another whimper. 

“Babe, huh?” The retort has your gut churn, nervousness courses through your veins. “What the fuck took you so long?!”

There goes the level voice. You keep from closing your eyes, embracing for impact. He likes it more when you face him head on, as if it’s some kind of challenge. Pressing your lips closed, you let your eyes wander over his face. 

You note the down-tug of his lips, the anger boiling like a hot fire in his eyes, and the flare of his nose as his form towers over you. “Bitch, I asked you a fucking question! What the fuck took you so long?!”

“Yo-Yoshi saw a… a dog. I-I couldn’t hold him back and we-we went on a detour.” _God, you sound weak. I am weak_ , you think, _too weak_. 

“Couldn’t hold him back, my ass.” He takes a step closer to you. Your body moves on its own when it takes a step back. It continues until your back collides with the wall and he locks you in. “Give me your phone!”

You fish your phone out of your pocket and pray to God Tom hasn’t texted you. You haven’t gotten the chance to block his number yet and if he has texted you, well, life for the next three days will be even worse than usual. You’d deserve it, too, probably.

Fear the only thing holding your body up, you hold your breath as he checks. First when he throws it away with a silent grunt and it lands on the couch, and he _doesn’t_ yell, do you let yourself breathe again. 

“Fucking good for you there was nothing there.” His voice is a rough whisper, hoarse and with an underlying tone of want. He doesn’t say more before he presses his lips to yours, pinning your arms to the wall and pressing your head against it. 

When one of his hands falls to your hip, pressing you close to him, pressing you close to the growing bulge in his pants, you know it’ll bruise. Just like you know the grip on your wrist will bruise and that you won’t be able to walk in the next twenty four to thirty six hours. 

You know because that’s how it always is. 

How it always has been. 

* * *

**[07.47] Unknown number** **  
** Hi, this is Tom. I didn’t have time to send a text yesterday, but I still wanted to tell you that I would like to meet you again. Hope that’s possible. - Tom

**[08.29] Unknown number** **  
** I know you haven’t replied yet, and it’s probably because you have yet to wake up, but when you do, would you be up for a cup of coffee? Either lunch or breakfast, whatever sounds best for you? - Tom

**[11.32] you** **  
** Hi, Tom. This is Y/N. Very sorry, but I can’t meet with you. I have plans all week and the next months. Work is taking my time, so is having a boyfriend and friends. Very sorry about my dog, again, but thank you for saving me from the ground. Have a lovely life.

🛇 **Blocked**

_To move this conversation out of Archived and get messages again, unblock xxxxx-xxxxx_

[ _Unblock_ ](http://link)

* * *

You’re unsure what it is that has you think the thought. It pops up from nowhere, really, but it still sounds… reasonable. 

With aching moves, you pack your things. A suitcase is more than enough for everything you own (your boyfriend keeping your hobbies to a fair minimum), and everything for Yoshi.

As you pack the bare essentials, your body shakes. Every few pieces of clothing thrown into the suitcase lands outside on the floor and your heart hammers in your chest. In the bathroom, finding your toothbrush, you hear a noise from the hallway and your heart shoots into your chest. Rushing out and to the living room, you only find Yoshi with one of his toys. 

Tears prick at the back of your eyes. Fear an ever lurking presence. Putting the leash on Yoshi, you hope he isn’t close. You fumble with the clasp and use far longer than you would have liked to put it on, but thankfully, the dog’s big eyes and somewhat smile and the wagging of his tail, helps put you at ease. 

His work day still has three more hours, meaning he won’t be here for another four. That should be enough time, right? More than enough time…

You leave the door unlocked, having left the key to the apartment on the kitchen counter. If anyone robs it… you fear the repercussions, but by the time he comes home, he shouldn’t be able to find you. 

Even as you walk with Yoshi and the suitcase down the street, finding a taxi and asking him to take you to the police station, you don’t know what has settled in you. You don’t know where this is coming from. This… courage.

You’re unsure whether it was the show you saw last night where the relationship between the two romantic leads, even when they were alone, never had any hitting or bruising or anger in the same way _he_ shows. Or if it was Tom, and the way his face still sits at the back of your mind. How you’d compared his gentle eyes and reassuring smile to _his_ fake mask in front of others. 

Has it really taken you so long to see the difference? To see that Tom’s, despite how instilled with fear you were, actually showed genuine compassion and care, and _his_ is always with an extra layer that it takes a lot of study to see (but what else do you use your time on when you can’t look at others when you’re out?). 

You pay the cab driver as he drops you off and you find your way into the police station. It takes a long half hour before you walk out again and sit down on the curb. It takes another three hours to stop crying and shaking. In those three hours, Yoshi lies his head in your lap and lets the weight of him being close reassure you. A man who tries to help and ask what’s wrong is quickly barked away by the dog guarding you. 

It warms your heart. 

A police officer on her way home asks you what’s wrong, and, as you don’t tell, she tells you to contact someone. She also leads you into the waiting room and tells you to sit there until you find help, even if help doesn’t come from the police. In the hour you sit there, you delete the find my phone app and you block _him_ and everyone associated with him on everything you can remember you share. You wish you’d done it sooner. 

In your phone, you’re left with few options. 

The unblock button is easy to press. The text is everything _but_ easy to send. Your fingers shake as you type, and there are countless spelling mistakes. Finding them all takes a few minutes, and even after telling yourself you’ll send it, your finger hovers over the send button. 

Exactly seven minutes and thirty-eight seconds later (you counted), your finger falls down and you press the send button. Watching it turn blue has your heart beat faster and faster, and you press back the tears pricking at your eyes. Swallowing hurts as your throat is unbearably dry. 

The reply comes a lot faster than you would expect, and it helps ease some of the fear lodged in your body. The tears that fall now are a mixture of relief and fear, and Yoshi lying his head down in your lap again helps you regain your composure. 

Tom picks you and Yoshi up at the police station half an hour later. He offers up his guest bedroom, but you refuse, saying you’ll stay at a hotel until you can find something. You don’t refuse his offer of going somewhere to talk over a cup of coffee.

He helps you find a hotel that allows dogs, helps you check in (unlisted) and joins you for a walk with Yoshi before you find a quiet cafe to sit down at. You sit outside, Yoshi quiet by your feet, but regarding everyone who passes by with a steady look. Being a big dog, you see more than one person a little frightened. It warms your heart.

And the coffee in front of you warms your hands. 

“Thank you, Tom,” you say, after the silence becomes too much. “I haven’t told you anything about why but you’re still willing to help. Thank you.”

Tom smiles. One of his hands leaves his cup and when it comes close to yours, you instinctively flinch―though you don’t move it (that has never gone over well in the past). Tom’s hand hovers over yours and his eyes study you as his brows crease into a frown. Your heart pounds in your chest. “I won’t ask, but I hope I can help. However you need.”

Taking a deep breath, you bite your lower lip and look down at your hands. Both now clench around your coffee cup. The steam rises in the cool air and the smell stirs something in your gut, something that has tears prick at the back of your eyes. You let your hearts incessant pounding die down before you look up Tom. 

“I could use a friend,” you say, eventually. The smile you try to show is crooked and unsure, and you know the fright is visible through it. 

Tom still smiles. His eyes are gentle and reassuring, and it warms you that there actually does exist someone who doesn’t raise his voice at weakness and vulnerability. Someone who wants to help, and who doesn’t demand answers. 

You could use a friend. A friend who lets you find your own way and lets you take your time. 

“Anything you need, Y/N,” replies Tom. “Time, space, money, a hug, a _friend_. Anything.”

This time, when you smile, it crinkles by your eyes. It’s still crooked and unsure, but most of the fright is gone. 

You’ve finally taken off the rose-tinted glasses.

**Author's Note:**

> if you've reached the end i hope you're okay  
> talk to me on [tumblr](https://ladybugsfanfics.tumblr.com/) if you want and please leave a comment (let me know yall are okay, please?)


End file.
